


Leave What's Heavy Behind

by Iwillshenanagain



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Angst, Character Study, Developing Relationship, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mostly Fluff, Relationship Negotiation, mag160 spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-08
Updated: 2020-05-08
Packaged: 2021-03-02 23:20:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,959
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24064975
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Iwillshenanagain/pseuds/Iwillshenanagain
Summary: In the weeks between them arriving at the safe house and the world ending, Martin and Jon are working to develop their relationship. Turns out they're both very bad at talking to each other. At least, at first.Title is from the song Heavy by Birdtalker
Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist
Comments: 2
Kudos: 128





	Leave What's Heavy Behind

They’ve been staying at Daisy’s safe house for less than a week before Martin announces suddenly over dinner,

  


“We should share the bed.”

  


It’s no mystery to Jon which bed Martin is referring to. (Daisy’s safe house doesn’t have much in the way of furniture to begin with, so it really isn’t all that surprising that it only has one bed to speak of.) It is the bed that Jon refused to take the night they first arrived, citing that “consumption of statements” was his main energy source. In the end, they compromised by Jon promising Martin that he’d be fine sleeping on the couch.

  


“Besides,” Jon had said less than a week ago, on that first night, “It looks much more comfortable, if smaller.”

  


That had been a blatant lie. Anyone with eyes, especially an avatar of The Eye, could see the couch was a sore, well... everything, waiting to happen. Jon is forced to stop pondering the torture device disguised as a couch, however, when Martin clears his throat and continues.

  


“Jon, I’ve seen you limp around the cottage every morning before breakfast. It takes you an hour every morning before you’re able to-“

  


“We’re calling it a cottage, now?” Jon asks in a teasing tone. It’s clearly a change of subject, but Martin brushes the subject change off with a fond roll of his eyes and a barely noticeable reddening of his cheeks.

  


“Yes. Makes it feel more homey. Anyway, we...  _ You’re _ uncomfortable sleeping on the couch-“ He breaks off to give Jon an admonishing glare when Jon opens his mouth to argue this point, then continues when Jon closes his mouth again. “We should just share the bed.”

  


More silence greets his suggestion. Jon isn’t looking at Martin. He’d stopped looking at him sometime around when Martin had willed him to be silent mid-tirade. But then,  _ finally _ Jon looks up, a look of determination painted stubbornly across his face.

  


“Alright.”

  


And that’s that. It’s settled. Martin relaxes, not even realizing his body had been strung with the tension that was released. They finish the rest of their dinner in a comfortable enough silence, and it isn’t until Jon gets up to do the dishes that one of them speaks again.

  


“Are you...” Jon trails off. It’s clear in his eyes he isn’t sure where he’s going with his question. Or maybe, Martin thinks to himself, he isn’t sure if he wants to ask the question.

  


“Yes, Jon?” Martin asks encouragingly.

  


Jon shakes his head as if to banish whatever thought that sprung up unbidden in his mind. “Never mind. It’s not important.”

  


Martin wants to push the matter, but knows that it’s best not to. Jon may be stubborn, but they’ve been making progress already. Martin knows Jon will talk about whatever he wanted to say eventually.

  


“I love you,” Jon says instead. Because he can. He still can’t say the words without a smile forming around them. Martin casts a look back at Jon over his shoulder from where he’s begun washing the dishes. He looks the slightest bit flustered when he replies:

  


“You too.”

  


Martin has yet to tell Jon directly that he loves him, but that’s okay. Jon knows that Martin loves him and he hears it in other ways. When Martin says Jon’s name, the ‘I love you’ is implied. When Martin cooks breakfast and burns half of the first batch of pancakes and proceeds to eat the burnt ones claiming to “like the char” even though Jon knows it’s just so Jon doesn’t have to eat them, the ‘I love you’ is implied. And less than a week ago when Jon grabbed Martin’s face in his hands and asked Martin to follow him home, away from the misty and cold expanse of The Lonely, and Martin  _ followed him... _ The ‘I love you’ was more than implied. They’ll get around to it. They just need time. Which they seem to have plenty of in the quiet and scenic green of Scotland that surrounds the safehouse.

  


-  


  


It all comes to a head a week later. Martin and Jon have made further progress in unpacking and to celebrate, they’ve decided to take one of their early evening walks through the countryside. It isn’t long into this walk that Martin slips his hand into Jon’s. It’s a natural sort of thing, something Martin doesn’t realize he’s done until Jon tenses beside him. His hand is warm in Martin’s (whose fingers sometimes still feel like blocks of ice since his rescue from The Lonely) and it banishes any trace of cold Martin held inside of him immediately. Jon recovers quickly, and the rest of their walk is spent normally, just with hand holding added to the mix. Before they reenter the cottage, Jon stops them at the end of the gravel path leading up to the door.

  


“Martin, I... I’ve been meaning to ask you this for a while,” Jon begins. Martin squeezes Jon’s hand in his as nonverbal support. “Are you...” Like before, Jon hesitates, but this time it seems to be because he doesn’t know how to word his question and less like he doesn’t know what he’s asking. Martin is silent, waiting for him to continue. Jon revels in the quiet encouragement laced through Martin’s calm and expectant expression. He doesn’t deserve this patient, kind, resilient man. He doesn’t deserve Martin. “Martin,” he says, because he likes saying his name, “Do you still feel lonely?”

  


There is a peculiar weight to the question. It should be an easy enough question to answer. No. He has Jon, doesn’t he? He’s wanted Jon for years now, and he finally has him at his side. They’re holding hands and getting ready to share dinner in a cute little cottage in the Scottish Highlands. And it’s not perfect, but they’re both trying to make this work and it should be enough-

  


“Yeah.” Martin’s reply startles himself. “I suppose I am.”

  


This time it’s Jon’s turn to squeeze Martin’s hand in his. Martin waits for a response from Jon that doesn’t come, and instead, returns Jon’s stare. He can see how the intensity of Jon’s gaze might be intimidating or creepy given another context. But Martin can see all of the affection trapped behind his eyes, waiting to flood out. He doesn’t deserve this quiet, sweet, thoughtful man. He doesn’t deserve Jon.

  


“I love you.” It’s not exactly a whisper, but Martin’s voice is so thin when he says it, a whisper would have more power to it. And suddenly the moment between them is so fragile, Martin hesitates to say anything more, afraid of breaking it horribly. It’s Jon who finally breaks the silence with a thoughtful hum. “Martin, I...” And Martin can see the gears in his head turn. A wonderful and horrifying place Jon’s mind must be.

  


“Can I kiss you?” The question falls from Martin’s lips much in the same way that the bed inquiry had about a week ago. The same way that  _ I love you _ had been hanging silently from his lips for months. Luckily for Martin’s sanity, the answering silence is much shorter than the months leading up to this moment and even more luckily, Jon nods his consent.

  


Kissing Jonathan Sims, at first, is like kissing some sort of... Padded surface? Soft yet firm, a bit strangely neutral in taste, and rather unyielding. The kiss grows much more comfortable once Jon realizes he can kiss Martin back. Still, Martin feels his stomach bubbling through the entire ordeal and his head feels light and giddy as he pulls back a bit to stare at Jon’s face and memorize the microscopic features he finds there.

  


The first thing Martin saw of Jon in The Lonely was his eyes. Sometimes when he wakes from nightmares feeling cold and alone before realizing he’s safe, he can feel Jon’s warm presence beside him in bed, and he can picture his eyes as they appeared in that moment perfectly: Clear, green, piercing, and the only thing cutting through the thick mist hung heavy in the air around them. It’s rather poetic, Martin supposes, as the first thing Martin had ever noticed about Jon was that his eyes were beautiful. It was the depth they held, and the emotions neatly tucked away behind them, and the intensity they managed. Really, Martin could write hundreds more sappy poems about how it felt to be looked at, to be  _ seen _ by Jon, besides the ones he’d already written in the years his crush on Jon has developed. But no poem- at least not one Martin could write- would be able to perfectly describe how it felt to be loved by him.

  


Later that evening when they’re lying on the couch, Jon reading to Martin from a poetry book Martin had picked out, Martin slides his hand over Jon’s where he clutches the book and takes it from him mid-poem, shutting it and setting it aside. Jon looks surprised but not startled, and Martin puts his hands on either side of Jon’s face so he can press a gentle kiss to his mouth.

  


“Tired of my voice?” Jon asks in his dry sort of humor that Martin has just begun to understand as humor. Martin doesn’t dignify such a stupid question with an answer. Instead, he leans back into the couch silently and stares up at the ceiling. It’s old wooden beams don’t stare back, which Martin is grateful for.

  


“Jon, when you asked me earlier-“ He feels Jon tense up beside him and it is so opposite of the reaction Martin had been wanting. He smooths his hand over Jon’s again to see him slightly relax, then continues. “I’m still... Well, I’ve always been lonely, I guess?” He isn’t sure why he’s bringing this up, really. He just feels this pressure at the pit of his stomach, indicating it’s important. And so he continues, “I don’t know why, but I just... I need more attention than others, sometimes?” He doesn’t want to sound needy or whiny. Maybe he should rephrase? “Sorry, you’re not- Jon, I know you don’t do touchy-feely well. And it’s not like you’re my therapist, so you shouldn’t have to deal with this anyways, right?” He tries for a joke. It sounds awkwardly hollow, even to his own ears. It reminds him of how his voice sounded in the lonely. Without meaning to, he shivers. “It’s just weird, because I think I’m still being affected by it. The Lonely, I mean. Even though Peter’s dead now... It’s all rather spooky,” he says, just to see Jon’s nose crinkle up at the word. Martin is quick to add on, “It’s not serious, though! I mean, I suppose it is a bit. The entire reason I asked you to share the bed with me was because I kept waking up with this coldness in the pit of my stomach and I didn’t feel quite right until I would go to the couch and rustle you awake. I think it’s touch related? Which is weird-“

  


“Martin, you’re rambling.”

  


“Right.” He gives Jon an uneasy smile. “I should have told you earlier, but I was afraid you’d be put off. It’s not exactly conventional to have a boyfriend that needs to be held and validated every second of the day-“

  


“Martin, what gave you the impression that our relationship is in any way conventional?”

  


Martin isn’t looking at Jon, but he can hear the smile in his voice. Martin hasn’t told Jon, but besides the compulsion, what made Martin recognize Jon’s voice in The Lonely was the warmth buried beneath the desperation and certainty. He needs to tell him, he needs to  _ know. _

  


But then, maybe he already does.

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first TMA fic and the first fic I'm posting to my new account! This ended up being more of a character study than anything else, because halfway through I just decided I liked their dynamic and dropped any semblance of plot I had planned.  
> I hope you enjoyed!  
> If you want to shoot me an ask or are looking for another TMA account to follow, my Tumblr is Iwillshenanagain.


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